


I'd Die To Bring My Baby Back

by BrokenHazelEyes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, captain america winter soldier
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Self-Harm, Starvation, Suicidal Bucky Barnes, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenHazelEyes/pseuds/BrokenHazelEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky braced his hands over his knees, drinking in breaths like a man dying of thirst. It only took a few weak rumbles of his ribcage before the former Winter Soldier collapsed onto the dirt. That was a lie; there was no former Winter Soldier. Bucky would always be the Winter Soldier, he’d always be a killer and a monster and there was nothing he could do.<br/>Except this, bleaching his skin with H.Y.D.R.A.’s blood, trying to avenge Steve’s death with a thousand others. He could do this. Then he’d bleed himself dry and try to find home with Steve again. Bucky wasn’t afraid to die.<br/>He was afraid of the dark, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Die To Bring My Baby Back

     There was one thing Bucky knew without out doubt, and it was that Steve was never going to come home. Well, it was correct in idea. There wasn’t a home for them anymore, and it couldn’t even be found in each other’s arms.

     Whenever Bucky pondered over the fact he was alone it was like falling off that train all over again. All the air was sucked from his lungs, and Steve’s screaming assaulted his ears worse than bullets.

     Bullets. Oh God, how many had he killed?

     Bucky braced his hands over his knees, drinking in breaths like a man dying of thirst. It only took a few weak rumbles of his ribcage before the former Winter Soldier collapsed onto the dirt. That was a lie; there was no former Winter Soldier. Bucky would always be the Winter Soldier, he’d always be a killer and a monster and there was _nothing he could do._

     Except this, bleaching his skin with H.Y.D.R.A.’s blood, trying to avenge Steve’s death with a thousand others. He could do this. Then he’d bleed himself dry and try to find home with Steve again. Bucky wasn’t afraid to die.

     He was afraid of the dark, though.

     You’d think a monster wouldn’t be afraid of the blackness and the cold, but Steve’s ghost was hunting him down alleys and begging for help. Steve was dead and it was Bucky’s fault. That damned shield was turning from blue and white to pure red, and Bucky would catch glimpses of it as he huddled down in corners.

     The Winter Soldier didn’t hide, he followed orders and butchered. _Cold as ice,_ the assassins had heard members of the Red Room call him. Leave it to a dead man to thaw away the Soldier to the bones, to Bucky.

     Leave it to Steve to bring back a forgotten man who didn’t want to live.

     Bucky shook his head, clearing his thoughts away and curling tighter into himself. His gun poked at his hips, and a grumble of his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in days. That was okay, Bucky didn’t need to dust himself off and recover, he just needed to end _all of this._

     There were six more agents to take down, and then everyone linked to Steve’s death would be dead. The Red Room would be gone, and then Bucky could disappear. Would it be disrespectful to shot himself dead at Steve’s grave? He just wanted to be with his friend again. That wasn’t too much to ask, right?

_You’ve killed innocents and you just want to get away unpunished,_ the old Bucky’s voice was howling at the broken soldier’s tone, _stay away from Steve. You’re not me, not anymore. You stay away from Steve!_

     The voice faded away and pain started to set Bucky’s nerves on fire, focused around his lower arm. It took a moment before the sharpshooter’s eyes adjusted, and he was met with more red. A deep cut, jagged and sloppy, traced downward toward his thumb. The knife slipped from Bucky’s grasp and the blood on the blade stuck to his shirt.

_Good,_ the old voice muttered from a place Bucky couldn’t go, _bastard like you deserves the pain._

     Bucky nodded, moving his arm so that his hand rested on the ground next to him. Leaning his head against the brick wall behind him, the sniper fiddled with the knife in his other hand.

     Back before it was just Steve and him and the Commandos, he’d heard of this. Only one or twice, whispered as soldiers slowly spun into madness. A precious few seconds ticked by before Bucky realized he’d made another slash down the length of his arm.

     God, he owed so much blood.

     It took another shake of the soldier’s head to fully bring Bucky to his senses, and the man pushed himself up and off the ground with programmed grace. A drop of rain on his nose made Bucky look up, and peered into the heavy clouds.

     All he could see was that _fucking_ shield.

     Placing one foot in front of the other, Bucky walked deeper into the knot of alleyways. There were still agents to take down, and the soldier’s body was getting weaker. There was no time for food, no time for rest. Only time to clean his gun and track down the next target.

     There was sure as _hell_ no time for crying. The Winter Soldier didn’t cry.

_I bet you’re such a monster you wouldn’t cry if Steve died in front of you,_ the voice snarled, **_if he died in your arms._**

     Another lie. Bucky had already cried, beaten a man until his skull shattered apart because a mocking laugh about Steve’s death had passed those lips.

     The old Bucky’s voice fell quiet at that.

 

     The night gave way to blocked sunlight that couldn’t trapeze over the high building tops. Still, it was better than a dead man chasing him around in dark alleys. Luckily for Bucky the blood on his arm had dried and the wound had hastily, and sloppily, stitched itself back together.

     Today was the day, and the anticipation buzzed through his system like pure alcohol. He’d hidden away last night, finalizing his thoughts and lying in wait. He’d planned this for a week, the day he’d take down the final agents and then slip away.

     No more alleyways, no more voices of the man he used to be, just calm.

     Bucky didn’t bother with his mask, just slipped a tattered leather jacket over his shoulders and pinned the gun to his side. Nothing was going to stop him today. It was time to avenge Steve, and to honor the man that he had once used to be. The old Bucky would rather have died than have his body used to kill.

     He knew that too.

 

     The agents were easy to spot, three in suits and two in battle gear. They were losing their touch obviously, because they hadn’t even seen him yet. Bucky didn’t bother hiding, or looking for a potential sniper’s nest. He just unloaded the first bullet straight into one of the agent’s forehead. She went down without a noise, just looking in his direction with emotionless eyes.

     These people didn’t fear death, either.

     Another bullet left the chamber, and one of the soldier’s took a bullet to the heart. The agent’s gun recoiled as the downed man fired off a shot, and it sliced through Bucky’s thigh. He hardly noticed.

     “ _BUCKY!”_

     Bucky didn’t look for the noise, but let his lips twitch upward at Steve’s ghastly voice. _Soon,_ the man promised, firing off another shot and taking another suit down, _I’ll be with you soon._

     His flesh shoulder took a hit, and the pain radiated down his back, but the Soldier shook it away with a growl. Both he and the broken-down Bucky were working together for this final thing, and the combination was as deadly and horrific as it was fluid.

     There was one man left, the final soldier holding a gun with shaky hands. His face was pale, and blood flecks decorated the desert cameo.

     “You took him away from me,” Bucky growled but it was the Soldier’s deep, scratchy tone that was heavy in the air, “ _you took him away from me!”_

     Bucky nearly emptied the clip into the man’s belly, carefully leaving one bullet despite his consuming rage. There were footsteps behind him, and if the Winter Soldier didn’t assure him that all the links were dead, Bucky would have spun around expecting a wave of bullets.

     He sure as hell didn’t expect Steve’s face when he turned around. There was a frown on the Captain’s face, and tear tracks down his cheeks.

     Bucky’s mind raced. Was he already dead? Had the last agent gotten off a lucky shot, or had he bled? Why was Steve sad? Wouldn’t he be happy, because Bucky had finally taken down the people who had taken his friend away?

     Wouldn’t Steve understand that Bucky couldn’t just let those monsters live? Couldn’t let _himself_ live?

_Why was Steve crying?_

     Thick arms, powerful enough to take Bucky apart but loving enough they could piece him back together, grabbed Bucky around the hips. The Soldier could only smile, because it was okay now. It didn’t matter how he died, he knew those agents were dead and all he needed to know was that.

     That soldier, the last one to fall, had been a good shot. He must have just gotten Bucky in the head before his body dropped. That was it.

     Bucky buried his face in Steve’s shoulder, beaming like a fool. The waves of excitement at seeing Steve again overrode the pain, which was odd because was death supposed to hurt?

_Have you forgotten all the people you’ve killed? What did you think death was going to be like for you?_ The old Bucky spat back, but the current one only pressed closer to the blonde.

     Steve was sobbing into his hair, and Bucky looked up in confusion. Every part of Steve looked broken.

     “What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, his voice scratchy with disuse and years of screaming. Steve only curled more around Bucky, pulling him closer as if he could keep him shielded away from the rest of the world. Steve had always been loving like that.

     The Captain sobbed Bucky’s name into his hair, pressing delicate kisses to the pale flesh on the side of Bucky’s face.

     “I thought you were dead, I thought you were dead…”

     Bucky looked up confused at Steve, eye brows drawn close together.

     “I am dead, what are you talking about Steve?”

     Steve pulled back like he’d been stabbed, and grabbed Bucky’s shoulders with a grasp that would have broken any other man’s bones. His eyes were wild, mad and tortured.

     “What are you talking about, Bucky?” Steve’s tone became frantic, uncontrolled just like his blue eyes.

     Bucky felt amused for a second, had Steve forgotten everything?

     “H.Y.D.R.A. killed you, they showed me videos, pictures…” Bucky trailed off, blinking away tears that refused to fall, “I hunted them all Steve, all the people who harmed you. I took them all down, and now I’m with you.”

     Steve stared wide eyed, small and short breaths zipping down his throat. Both their heads snapped up at the familiar sound of a chopper floating to the ground. A woman, with a shock of red hair stepped out flanked by a black man, and a suit of red impacted on its feet next to the helicopter. They were talking to Steve.

     The woman raised her pistol, pointing perfectly at Bucky’s temple.

     “Winter Soldier, step away from Captain America.” Her voice was strong, but Bucky didn’t understand. _What was going on?_

     Steve pulled Bucky behind him, hiding him from view. He was talking to the woman, and he could hear her footsteps drawing closer. He stayed still, trusting Steve. Until Steve turned toward him, and a pair of glistening metal cuffs were in his grasp. The woman told Steve to put them on the Winter Soldier, but Bucky was already backing away like a cornered animal. Dead people wouldn’t do this. _Steve_ wouldn’t do this.

     It only left one option.

     Mouth dry and cracking, Bucky croaked out, “You’re not Steve… _YOU’RE NOT STEVE!”_ He backed away with unsure footfalls, his heart pounding out of control and his body was ready to flee. He wasn’t going to fight. It wasn’t Steve, but this _thing_ had Steve’s face and that was enough. He couldn’t kill this man, not while he looked like the one person Bucky had truly loved. So that left running. At least Bucky was good at that.

     Pivoting on one foot, Bucky took off down the street, weaving around abandoned cars. He had to get away, had to disappear, but the man with Steve’s face was on his heels.

     Long legs, thinned by starvation but strengthened by use, ate up the distance. Casting a quick glance behind him, Bucky saw the bright color of the man’s suit.

     Somehow he managed to slip into the darkness, pressing his scarred palms over his ears as fake-Steve’s voice sobbed out his name over and over again with newfound desperation.

     He couldn’t kill the imposter but _God_ he wanted to.

 

     Bucky turned over on the rickety bed, the one widow the safe house possessed covered with decaying wood but still two beams of sunlight streamed weakly inward. Stale bread rested in the soldier’s belly, enough to keep him alive. Just barely, enough so his body could still run.

     He had to keep moving, get far enough away that he could wipe away the imposter’s face from his skin and could finish his mission.

     Hauling himself out of bed, Bucky pulled on the leather jacket and some tattered sweat pants he had found. The boards underneath his feet creaked, but he ignored it as he padded toward the entrance. It was time to leave.

     He hadn’t expected the suit of iron to greet him at the door. The facemask slid up, and the hands came up to show a lack of threat. Bucky was still on edge, the Soldier chomping at the bit to get free and tear the metal man limb from limb.

     “Look, your name is James Barnes, right? The 107th?” The iron man asked, but Bucky was busy eyeing escape routes, “Come back with me, Steve’s been looking all over for you.”

     Bucky snapped his head up, teeth showing and muscles bunched up, ready for a fight.

     “Steve’s dead!” Bucky howled, eyes darting around, “I saw him die!”

     The iron man shook his head, holding one hand out like he wanted Bucky to grab it.

     “That was H.Y.D.R.A, they faked those videos and pictures. Steve’s fine, he never got hurt. He’s okay, James.”

     Bucky was shaking his head, pulling at his hair and clenching his jaw. He hadn’t even realized he’d been screaming.

     The iron man stumbled back and Bucky took his chance. He took off like a bat out of hell, legs blurring together at the speed and weaved through the shadows. Bucky could still hear the iron man’s voice, but it was blurring into Steve’s and _this was not okay._

_This was not fucking okay._

               

     Bucky didn’t even try to find one of H.Y.D.R.A.’s old safe houses, he just wandered. Maybe he’d just starve to death. These alleys seemed as good as a place to pass out and try to find the true Steve. He could still hear the whirl of the iron man’s suit as he circled over the city, scanning for Bucky. When he heard those noises, Bucky just leaned against the cold wall and tried to ignore the ache that was slowly taking over his body.

 

     He didn’t deserve the painless death of a gun, anyway.

 

 

      Steve was the one to find him, and Tony was sure that the entire town was still vibrating from the man’s horrified scream. Bucky’s cheeks and stomach were sunken, long since deprived of any food. The bags under his eyes spoke of no sleep for a time longer than any other person had suffered through.

     They weren’t sure if James Barnes was going to make it through the night. That was what the doctors had said, _be prepared to say your goodbyes._ Steve had nearly broken one of the doctor’s arms because of that comment.

     Steve refused to go, glaring down Fury when he tried to get the Captain to leave. The star-spangled man stayed firm, laying on his side with Bucky pulled protectively against his chest.

 

     Bucky woke up a week later, peering up at Steve with wet and wide eyes. Tears were on both their faces, and Steve peppered Bucky’s faces with kisses that were both soft and desperate. He only said two words, and repeated them over and over into Bucky’s ears.

     _“I’m here, I’m here…”_


End file.
